


Against All Odds

by Marrilyn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Crying, Emotional Hurt, F/F, Feels, Insecurity, Rowena Needs A Hug, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23093740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marrilyn/pseuds/Marrilyn
Summary: A confrontation about Rowena's recent distant behavior leads to revelations of hidden insecurities and a deep-rooted emotional vulnerability.
Relationships: Rowena MacLeod/You
Kudos: 21





	Against All Odds

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this](https://wlw-lesbianimagines.tumblr.com/post/184268136343/im-not-scared-about-her-cheating-on-me-im) prompt by wlw-lesbianimagines.
> 
> Huge thanks to fangirlxwritesx67 for summary help!

"We need to talk."

You said it so firmly, so matter-of-fact that shivers slid down Rowena's spine. Whenever you spoke to her like that, in that tone that turned blood to ice, she knew to expect bad news.

"Okay," she said, though it really wasn't. Something was wrong. She could feel it, could see it on your face; in your eyes that were locked with hers, looking through them, piercing straight into her soul; in the firm line of your mouth, devoid of its usual smile that greeted her; in the arch of your eyebrows, pointed and questioning.

Had she done something? Rowena thought back to this morning, to the days before. She couldn't remember an argument, or even an offhand remark she might have made that you could have taken wrong (which had happened in the past, though she liked to think she was better than that now. She wasn't that heartless woman anymore). She hadn't forgotten any important dates; all were seared into her memory, none on which were today. You'd even cuddled with her this morning while she was reading.

As far as she was aware, things were okay.

"Has something happened?"

Had Sam and Dean called you with news of impending apocalypse — again? Were there monsters lurking in the area? Hunters intent on killing witches? Had you received personal, private bad news? Rowena's mind was going a thousand miles an hour, new scenarios popping in like movie trailers, playing out one after the other, none more pleasant than the rest.

"No," you said, and she let a small wave of relief wash over her. "It's not…" You breathed, deep and hard. Gathered up all your courage. "I wanna talk about us."

 _Och?_ "What about us?"

The two of you were fine. Your relationship was far from perfect (which relationship wasn't?), but it was yours, unique and perfect in its imperfect wee way. You cared about each other. Stood by each other through everything, good and bad. Stuck together, hand in hand, against everything the world threw at you.

You told her she was beautiful every single day. Held her as she cried and screamed in the middle of the night, the terrors of that day in May three years back still fresh in her mind. Kissed her good morning and goodnight. Called her cutesy nicknames she rolled her eyes at but secretly loved.

It was a good relationship. The best Rowena had ever had (though, given her history, that wasn't exactly a hard feat).

You hesitated for a moment. Then, reluctantly, "You've been distant lately. For a while now, actually."

"I have?"

"Yeah."

"Surely, you're mistaken."

"Surely, I'm not." Your tone was curt. To the point. No mercy; just the cold, hard truth.

A shiver spilled down Rowena's spine, blood turning to ice. She wasn't distant. Not really. She was just… _herself._ The way she'd always seen. You'd never complained before. Why was it an issue now?

Okay, so she might have not reciprocated a hug or two, or stood still amidst a kiss. She'd never been the most attentive person, and you knew that. You'd always known that, and hadn't minded it.

What changed? What made today different?

"You don't talk to me anymore," you said, lips quivering. You grit your teeth, steadied yourself.

"Nonsense," Rowena said.

She talked to you. Maybe a little less, but that didn't mean anything. There were things she preferred to keep to herself. Things she was certain you wouldn't — _couldn't —_ understand. There was still so much about her that you didn't know. So many things you couldn't begin to comprehend. Why should she bother you with them? Why should she ruin your days when hers were ruined from the start?

It wasn't like she was ignoring you. She just kept some things to herself. That didn't mean she didn't want to talk to you.

She simply _couldn't._

Why couldn't you understand that?

You scoffed at her response. "You've been avoiding me for — I dunno, days? Weeks? I've lost count." It sounded an awful lot like an accusation.

"I have not!" Rowena fired right away, defensive. Angry; at herself for getting into this mess, and at you for pointing it out.

She hadn't been _that_ distant. She hadn't been avoiding you. She had things going on. Things that didn't — that _couldn't_ for she wouldn't allow it — involve you. Why couldn't you understand that? Why did you have to be so hung up over it?

Why did you always have to be so bloody difficult?

You stared at her. It would have been a glare if not for the look of absolute hurt in your eyes. "Don't bullshit me! You keep pulling away from me. We barely even communicate."

"We communicate plenty." It taste like a lie — bitter, sour — before it fully fell from her mouth. She added as you were about to respond, "You know I don't do the touchy-feely thing. You've known that from the start."

She was far from an affectionate person. She loved attention, craved it, reveled in it, but she wasn't big on reciprocating. Physically, yes; she was more than willing to engage in make out sessions and a round of passionate sex. But she wasn't a talker.

There was a time when she shared her feelings openly. When she wore her heart on her sleeve and spilled its secrets freely. Only to end up half dead on a straw mat, with a screaming infant in her arms. Broken. Abandoned. Terrified.

Rowena could feel. She could feel and care and yearn with all her heart. For a long while she thought she couldn't. Then she met you, and things she once considered impossible turned out not to be. She cared about you more than anything, and was more than willing to show it to you in her own ways. It was easy. Caring about you was easy.

Putting it into words, into that one wretched word, though…

She couldn't. Not with everything that had happened, with everything she'd done.

Some things weren't meant to be put into words.

"That's bullshit and you know it!" Tears sprung to your eyes. Slid down your cheeks in bitter rivers. "You're being so cold. I hug you, and it's like you don't even notice. I kiss you and you don't kiss me back. You barely even talk to me!"

"You're being dramatic!" Rowena retorted with a roll of her eyes.

"At least I'm doing _something!"_ you shot back. "At least I'm _trying_ to fix this!"

"Fix what?" Nothing was broken. She'd been a bit silent — so what? There was no need to make a scene out of it. Especially considering you were the one who caused this mess.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out!" You wiped your face with your sleeve. Breathed in and out, deep and hard. "Do you even care?"

"Of course I bloody care!" Rowena exclaimed, offended at the implication. Why couldn't you understand how difficult this was for her? Why did you have to push her?

"Doesn't look like it." It was an accusation in everything but direct words. "It's like you're doing everything except care."

Frustration burned at her, built up like a geyser about to spring free. She threw her arms out, at an absolute loss of appropriate words. "What do you want me to do?"

If feelings were your thing, you were with the wrong person. Rowena didn't do feelings. She had them and hated herself for it, but she didn't _do_ them. Not out loud.

If you hadn't brought them up — if you hadn't said _it,_ the thing that had been haunting her for two weeks now — none of this would have happened. She wouldn't have been, as you'd said so eloquently, cold. She wouldn't have distanced herself — just a tad, but apparently enough for you to notice.

All you had to do was keep it to yourself. All you had to do was _not_ say it. Really, it was you who'd caused all this. You and your big, stupid mouth.

If you wanted to blame someone, you should have looked in the mirror.

"Maybe tell me what's going on," you said. _Pleaded,_ for if your words didn't, your eyes certainly did. "That would be a good start."

"Nothing is going on," Rowena insisted. _Liar!_ her conscience screamed at her. _Liar, liar, liar!_

If the truth hurt too much, lies were there to make it better. A classic Rowena MacLeod move.

Old habits died hard.

Unfortunately for her, you knew her all too well to buy it. "Right. I'm making it all up."

Your tone stung. The look in your eyes even more so. Rowena looked away; a cowardly move, and your expression said so right away. Guilt ate away at her like acid, burned her up one little bit at the time. She knew she wasn't being fair. You hadn't done it on purpose, hadn't meant to hurt her. It was, in fact, the very opposite.

She was the one with the problem.

Admitting it didn't make it any easier. It didn't make the fear, the insecurity go away. If anything, it made them worse.

"You've been this way ever since—"

Fear shot through her at the memory. Blood froze in her veins, shivers slithering down her spine like bugs crawling underneath her skin. All colour drained from her face, rosy cheeks fading to white, freckles standing out like stars amidst a bleached sea. "Don't," she cut in. A plea she knew would go unanswered for you were mad — rightfully so — and hurt and you wanted answers right here and now, no more nonsense allowed.

You stared at her, taken aback. For a moment she thought — _hoped_ with everything she had — you would drop it. Then, through a trembling mouth, in a voice barely above a whisper, you finished, "—ever since I told you I love you."

That was right. You did. You told her out of the blue, and suddenly Rowena's entire world was turned upside down and she was that lovestruck young woman again, yearning for something that would never come to be. Wishing for things that were out of her reach, foolishly thinking they were to be hers.

She knew better now.

Things were different this time around. She was older. Smarter. More experienced. She knew you to your core. You _weren't_ him; far from it. You weren't going to betray her.

And, strange as it was, that was what terrified her the most.

When you said you loved her, you meant it. You truly, genuinely meant it. There was no deception. No manipulation. No lies packaged to resemble the truth. Just raw honesty straight from your heart, from the very depths of your soul.

It was terrifying.

Pretending to love her was one thing. Having been used and abused and tossed aside like trash for centuries, she was used to it. She was _comfortable_ with it. Loving her for real? The mere thought sent shivers down her spine.

You knew her better than anyone ever had. You knew every secret, every flaw, every nasty thing she'd ever done, some she'd never forgive herself for. How could you love her? How could anyone love a monster — one she'd chosen to turn into, choosing power over her own child? How could you trust her?

"That's it, right?"you said, a touch of bitterness lacing your words. Tears spilled down your face, and Rowena's heart clenched, hating herself for doing that to you. Wishing she were brave enough to take a step forward and make the hurt go away. "You're mad I said it."

"No, darling," she said. Quite the opposite — she was mad at herself.

"What is it, then? We've been together for four years. I've loved you for four and a half."

Ever since you'd met. Since she'd started teaching you the ways of magic, back when she was still that manipulative, cruel creature whose only use for you was power. You knew that, and still, you'd allowed yourself to care about her. You'd allowed yourself to fall in love.

Rowena knew you were catching feelings, but she'd never imagined it went that far. How could you have been so foolish? Didn't you know how dangerous it was to love her back then?

"I figured it was time I said it," you continued. "Maybe I shouldn't have."

No. You shouldn't have. Because saying it made it real. It made her turmoil, her fears, her insecurities real. She couldn't escape them anymore, couldn't pretend they weren't there.

Couldn't pretend her own heart, black and shriveled, wasn't blooming with the same kind of love she'd convinced herself she wasn't capable of.

"If you don't love me, that's fine." Your voice broke as you spoke, lips trembling, tears drenching your face like a bitter downpour. It wasn't fine. Nothing was fine. "I thought maybe things were different now, but it's okay if they're not. I knew you didn't do that sort of thing even before we got together. I don't wanna pressure you or anything. I just… I wanted you to know I love you. I'm not asking you to love me back. You don't owe me anything."

You swallowed back sobs that threatened to break free. Your knees were shaking, barely holding you upright. Your breathing was hitched, uneven. You were close to falling apart, cracked glass holding itself together by its last remnants of strength. One push — one wee shove — and you would topple over the edge.

"You've got this all wrong, Y/N," Rowena made herself utter. "It's not—you haven't done anything wrong."

It was her. She was the one in the wrong. The one who hated herself and cursed herself out every single day. She'd had many lovers in her lifetime; some better, most horrible. She was used to being taken advantage of, to be cheated on and thrown out like a used, outgrown toy.

She wasn't scared of you cheating on her. You'd never so much as looked at another person, let alone made a move. But just because you weren't interested in others didn't mean your interest in her wouldn't wane.

You'd seen her at her worst. You'd seen her cry her eyes out, and scream in terror in the middle of the night. You'd seen her drool on the pillow some mornings. Had seen the stretch marks littering her thighs and the crater-like pimples that adorned her face and back, reminders that, as powerful a witch as she was, she was still human. You had seen her freckles, the sea of them covering her body from head to toe like bronze stars on a pale sky.

You'd seen all of her, all things human about her. Things she, once upon a time, considered ugly, repulsive, that were nothing compared to the real ugliness that rested inside of her.

"It's me," she said — _pleaded_ with you to understand. Tears prickled at her eyes; she held them back, willing herself to remain composed for if she were to fall apart she could never make this right. You deserved that much. "Don't you see how horrible I am? How bloody ugly I am?"

She'd done horrible things. Things she could never make right again, no matter how much regret bit at her. She'd killed. Hurt. Ruined. Took what she wanted. Destroyed what she didn't. She'd made herself hate and, eventually, abandoned her own child. She tore apart lives without a single care in the world in her endless chase of power.

She couldn't come back from that. She could redeem herself all she wanted; her past would still remain as it was. The people she killed would still be dead. Those she'd hurt would still suffer.

Her son would still be dead, and, wherever he was, hating her.

"You never seemed to notice. You've said from the beginning how beautiful I am, and a part of me was starting to believe you." She allowed a bitter chuckle. "But that doesn't change the ugliness inside me. The ugliness that I have when I'm overly jealous or insecure, or when I can't leave the bed and it hurts to breathe."

You were there for her through it all. You held her hand. Rocked her back and forth to soothe her. Kissed her and smiled at her in spite of everything, and she didn't understand that, and it scared her to no end.

"The ugliness when I scream and screech about how you didn't pick up your towel or forgot to wipe down the table. Again."

Little things. Some might call them insignificant, but when it came to Rowena, everything had meaning. She was a difficult person to be with. She was opinionated and picky. She rolled her eyes at the smallest of things, and threw tantrums like a spoilt brat. She pouted and whined and complained about anything and everything in sight.

She may have stopped killing, but she was far from a saint. She was a flawed, petty, evil creature. The kind of person no one liked, and with good reason. The person who hated herself.

"I'm not bothered by you loving me, Y/N." Because — goodness, it hurt to admit it — she loved you, too. So much. Too much. "I'm scared you're going to start seeing me the way I see myself, and you will realize that it's not worth it."

That _she,_ with all her flaws and imperfections, wasn't worth it.

You stared at her as if you'd seen a ghost. Wide eyed. Startled. At a complete and utter loss of words. A moment, two, three passed in silence, uncomfortable, deafening. Then, tentatively, you uttered, "It is. It's all worth it. I don't regret a thing." Though your voice was low, there was conviction in it. Pure and utter determination.

"I've done horrible things."

"I don't care." And you meant it. Your expression, as firm as your tone, said so.

You may not have cared, but Rowena did. It ate her up inside, every horrible thing she'd done. Every heart broken, every innocent life ruined and taken. It was the price of power, she'd told herself as she'd slowly urged herself not to care. As she'd turned her heart to stone, all love and light sucked out one dark deed at a time. Business, for the world was cruel to her so why should she show it mercy?

She couldn't change what she'd done. Couldn't bring the people she'd killed without a shred of mercy back. Couldn't undo the damage she'd inflicted. But she could — _would,_ for there was no magic in the world she would trade those memories for — remember it. She could learn from it, let it guide her to a different, hopefully less destructive future.

She needed to pay for her misdeeds. Remembering them, letting them play out over and over in her mind like a record stuck on repeat, was her punishment. Actions had consequences, and these were hers.

"I've hurt so many people," she said, and, once again, the self-loathing was back with a vengeance. Not that it had ever left; she'd just learned to mask it, to live with it nagging at her.

"I don't care," you repeated. So bloody sure of your words she, for just a moment, hated you, as well.

How could you move past everything? How could you, despite knowing all about her past, defend her? How could you _love_ her?

"You're my girl. Okay? Mine. I don't care what happened before. You're not that person anymore, Rowena." You took a step forward, then, confident it was okay, took another, and another. Your hands grabbed hers, fingers wrapping around them, tight as knots. Loving. Comforting. "You _are_ beautiful. Inside and out. You can't change what you've done, but you can change yourself. And you have, and you have no idea how amazing that is! You've made so much progress."

Maybe so. But still… "What does it matter? Those people are still dead." Tears sparkled in her eyes, and this time she let them spill. "Fergus is still dead!"

He'd died hating her. In his last moments, he was cursing her name, wishing he weren't her son.

Rowena wished for nothing more than to be his mother again. A second chance she would never get. Magic had done so much for her, and could do so much more, but it couldn't change that. She would never get a chance to make it right.

"If he were here, he's be so proud of you," you told her.

"He would hate me." Her voice broke as the words left her mouth, the truth stinging like a well-aimed slap to the face. "I was a horrible mother to him. I was cruel and selfish. I couldn't give him what he deserved." A small pause to compose herself, then, "I can't give you what you deserve, either."

You deserved stability. Happiness. Peace. None of which she could give you. Your life had become a struggle between life and death ever since she entered it.

Yet you still loved her. You'd still found it in you to give her a chance at a time when everyone had written her off as yet another wicked witch. You saw something in her, and you stayed.

Foolish girl, you were, Rowena thought to herself. You'd risked do much, and for what? A witch who'd, at the time you'd met, considered you nothing but an asset. Who was more than willing to leave you behind if things were to go south. Who took years to develop feelings, and eventually come to love you back.

You truly were foolish.

"You've given me so much more," you said. Your eyes found hers, tearful but determined. Honest to the core. "You've made mistakes — so what? No one's perfect. I'm not a saint, either, Rowena."

Maybe so. But you weren't the kind of sinner she was, either. Not even close.

"You and I — we're fucked up, but we're real." You squeezed her hands in emphasis. "Everything else can go to hell. I love you _so_ much."

Rowena flinched at the words so raw, so real. So unbelievable her heart clenched in her chest as if someone had squeezed it, tore into it with razor-sharp claws.

"I've been wanting to say it for years, but it never seemed like the right time," you said. "I guess I was a bit scared I'd, well, scare you off." A bitter chuckle fell from your mouth. "You don't have to love me back. I don't expect anything in return. Just, please, know that I'll always love you, no matter what. Good or bad, I'm in for it all."

Rowena let out a chuckle of her own. "You're a fool."

You shrugged. "Maybe. I just wanna be with you. If that makes me a fool, so be it."

Complete and utter fool. But… "I suppose I'm a fool, too."

Because she cared about you, as well. Because she couldn't imagine her life without you. Because she l—

She brought your linked hands to her mouth and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. A soft, comforting gesture. A wordless promise that this was real, that she was in it as much as you were. That, no matter how bad things got, she would never, ever leave you. She wasn't that person anymore. She wasn't that cold, manipulative, heartless bitch she'd made herself become. You'd helped her see the world in a different light. Showed her that, as much cruelty as there was, there was also kindness, compassion. Good she'd convinced herself was a farce, that was, as it turned out, very, very real.

"I…" Her throat constricted, words stuck behind an impenetrable wall. She sucked in a breath. "Y/N, I…"

Images flashed in her mind. The bright smiling face of a man. Kisses in forest, far away from prying eyes. His hands on her thighs. His mouth by her ear, whispering sweetness that made her knees weak. The promise of life, of a happy, happy future. A straw mat. Blood on her thighs. A screaming, blood-coated infant in her arms. The retreating back of a man, slowly fading until he was nothing but a figure in the distance.

"I love you," she'd said so many centuries ago, so many times.

"I love you, too, my dove" he'd said back. A liar. A fraud.

And now he was gone. He was long gone, hopefully rotting in Hell.

And you… you were here. Unlike him, you did love her. You didn't just say it — you showed it with actions, with kisses and hugs and endless support.

You wouldn't leave her. Wouldn't take advantage of her and throw her out like trash once you were done. You were loyal, and genuine, and kind beyond belief. Kinder than she'd ever deserved.

You weren't him. You would never be him.

You were Y/N. And, as much as it hurt to admit it, even to herself, she loved you.

"I love you, too."

The words tasted strange on her mouth. Her heart pounded loudly, blood whooshing through her veins. Her hands and knees were shaking; she felt like she would lose her balance any moment now, last remnants of strength keeping her — barely — on her feet.

A smile bloomed on your mouth, big and bright and happy. You cupped her cheek; she flinched, frightened, then, slowly, leaned into your touch that was love and comfort all in one.

"It's okay," you said softly. "Don't be scared."

"I'm not—" Och, who was she trying to fool? She was scared. She was terrified for the last time those words left her mouth, she was abandoned as if she were nothing. "Y/N…"

"I know," you said, nodding with understanding. "I know. It's okay. I'm here. I'll always be here. I'll always love you. Like I said, you're my girl. That's forever."

Rowena allowed a smile, a small one. "And you're my wee lass."

"Wee?"

"Aye."

You snorted. "If you say so."

"Mean," she said, feigning offense.

She missed this. The joyful teasing. The light-hearted banter. The intimacy only she and you shared.

She missed _you._

She leaned forwards, and her mouth fell on yours, capturing it. You melted into the kiss. It started slow, and then she deepened it, and you were both locked in, high on each other, caught in the wordless promise of safety, of love and devotion and eternity.

Together.

No matter what happened, what kind of hardships befell you, you would have each other. Nothing was ever going to tear you apart. Not death. Not fear. Not centuries-old insecurities.

The two of you, with all your flaws and imperfections, were forever.

Against all odds.

**Author's Note:**

> Edited by miss-moon-guardian.


End file.
